Free Mistress of Magic by Heather Graham Page A

Grows Violent In Lobster House. Eighteen-Month-Old Baby Attacked By Crimson Claw!”
    “I didn’t attack a baby.”
    “You were aiming at me?”
    “I wasn’t aiming at anyone!” She suddenly clenched her hands together in her lap. “Oh, can’t you please just go home?”
    He shook his head, suddenly serious. “Reggie, you know I can’t.”
    “But—”
    “This isn’t just going to go away.”
    “The police are on it.”
    “Yes, and the police are on dozens of other crimes, too. I can’t just let the board go on accepting Max’s position. He has to be proved innocent. Not because of the law. But because of people. And this is a point that goes full circle. If Max is innocent, someone else is guilty. Reggie, has it ever occurred to you that you—and Max—could be in danger?”
    “No,” she said flatly. “Daphne was a wretched bitch. It was amazing that she and Max ever married in the first place.”
    “So tell me what you know.”
    She frowned, her eyes widening. He clenched his teeth suddenly, wishing he wouldn’t react to her on such a gut level. Every once in a while he would just be looking at her, and in his mind’s eye, she’d be half naked again. Then all naked …
    But it wouldn’t be just the flesh that would get him. It would be the sound of her voice, the emerald sizzle of her eyes. Whatever, he really couldn’t explain it. There’d just be fire, shooting through him.
    “About Daphne?”
    “About Daphne. Max. Everything.”
    She shook her head slightly, then took a reflective sip of her beer.
    Foam clung to her lips for a moment. She caught it with the tip of her tongue.
    Part of his stomach seemed to fall to his feet, and every limb and protrusion of his body went tense.
    “Well,” she murmured dryly, “Max even knew that she was a witch. He said that he married her for the sex.”
    “I can see that,” Wes grunted. “Go on.”
    “They were just ill-suited. Max is very big on his charities. Daphne wouldn’t have loaned her own mother a dime. She didn’t care for the puppets—but she did love the prestige.” She stared at him suddenly, pointedly. “But then, you should know this better than I. You went to their wedding. I didn’t. He married her on such quick, wild impulse, I wasn’t able to attend.”
    “Tell me about her disappearance.”
    “I’m sure you’ve seen the police reports—”
    “I want to hear it from you.”
    She sighed, setting her wrists on the table. “All right. Cut and dried. As fast and as completely as I can. I didn’t discover her gone—neither did Max. I barely saw her in the past year. Admittedly, Max did upon occasion. At the divorce, he had given her a nice settlement. He just wanted out. But they had been married. If she was in trouble, Max came. And she called. I don’t think she had ever really believed Max would divorce her. Family and commitment mean so much to him.”
    “What one never has …” Wes murmured.
    “Exactly,” Reggie said coolly. “If her pipes were leaking, Max went over. Or he sent someone over. But on the day she was discovered missing, neither Max nor I was ever near her. She’d had a meeting with a reporter from that wretched Tattler paper. She was going out in her yacht on the lake in the morning. She was to meet him at one. At two o’clock, the reporter was sitting in front of her apartment door, still twirling his thumbs. Finally, he called the police. They called Max. Max didn’t know anything. Ozzie Daniels—the reporter—managed to get them to call the manager and enter Daphne’s apartment. It was found in total disarray. And of course, no sign of Daphne.”
    “And the little yacht?”
    “ Daphne’s Dare . It was found later the same day, sunk in the lake. The experts say a tiny hole had been bored, then filled with a resin. The boat didn’t begin to sink until she was way out in the deep when the purposely poor caulking began to dissolve in the water.”
    “And that’s it. That’s all they